chapter 1

Everly's POV

A jackhammer was trying to break out of my skull. That was my first, agonizingly clear thought as consciousness dragged me back, kicking and screaming. A dull, throbbing ache pulsed behind my eyes, syncing with the too-fast, panicked rhythm of my heart. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, trying to catch the fading image, but it disappeared... I was awake.

Where…?

The question was a silent scream in the haze. I forced my eyes open, only to immediately regret it. Blinding, unforgiving sunlight sliced through a gap in heavy curtains, stabbing directly into my brain. I flinched, a groan tearing from my parched throat. The light painted everything in sharp, surreal relief. An unfamiliar ceiling, textured and white, an abstract painting on a far wall caught my eyes. Panic began to coil in my gut, cutting through the alcohol-induced fog.

Okay. Breathe. I’m in a room. A hotel room?

The last solid memory was a kaleidoscope of noise and color: the annual Alpha meet-up, a masquerade costume party that was more political maneuvering than fun. My father’s voice, a low, insistent pressure in my ear: “Network, Everly. These are the people you’ll rule alongside. Make connections. Be seen.” My sister Ava’s conspiratorial wink as we slipped away from our parents, melting into the crowd of other pack heirs, all of us playing at being adults in a world our parents controlled. The taste of something sweet and potent stolen from a passing waiter’s tray. Laughter that felt too loud. Then… nothing. A yawning, black void.

I tried to roll over, to get my bearings, and that’s when I felt it.

A heavy, immovable weight pinning my waist.

My breath hitched, freezing in my lungs. Slowly, painfully, I turned my head on the pillow.

It was an arm. A man’s arm, tanned and muscular, dusted with dark hair, draped possessively across my bare hip. My own skin, I realized with a jolt of pure, undiluted terror, was also bare.

No. No, no, no, no.

This wasn’t happening. This was a drunk, horrible dream. Any second now, I’d wake up in my own bed with Ava snoring beside me after a night of stupid, harmless gossip.

I followed the line of the arm up, over a powerful shoulder, to the face resting on the pillow next to mine.

The world didn’t just tilt; it upended itself and poured me out.

Alpha Valen.

The Blood Alpha. Leader of the Nightshade Pack, our most powerful rival. A man whose name was spoken in my father’s house with a mixture of grudging respect and visceral loathing. A man who owned half the city and, according to whispers, had a soul as black as the pack he led. And he was in my bed. Naked. Asleep. With me.

A silent scream built in my throat, clawing its way up. My father wasn’t just going to murder me; he was going to dismember me, scatter the pieces across the borderlands, and declare it a public. My future, the Alpha title I’d been groomed for since birth, evaporated in that single, sun-drenched moment of horror.

“Fuck,” I breathed, the word a shattered whisper. I looked down at myself, at the sheet tangled around my legs, at the unmistakable, tender ache there. My virginity it was gone. Not in a blaze of destined, mate-bond passion, but tossed away in a blackout drunk haze with the one man in the world guaranteed to be my ruin. A hysterical, morbid thought bubbled up into my mind: If I can't even remember this, then his sex skills must be very bad.

The sharp buzz of my phone vibrating on the floor , I moved with a speed born of sheer panic, sliding out from under Valen’s arm like a thief, my heart hammering against my ribs. I snatched the phone, my sister Ava’s worried face flashing on the screen.

“Hello?” I rasped, pressing the phone to my ear, my back to the sleeping catastrophe in the bed.

“Where the hell are you?” Ava’s voice was a frantic hiss. “Dad is doing circuits. I told him you were with me, but he just ordered me home! Now!”

I scanned the room again, the generic hotel art, the plush armchair, the discarded fairy wings I’d worn as part of my costume now a sad, sparkly heap in the corner. The view from the window solidified it. “Still at the Banks Hotel,” I whispered.

The silence on the other end was deafening. Then, a horrified, hushed, “Everly… Oh my God, please tell me you didn’t fuck Alpha dickwad?.”

I look over at the Greek God lying in bed beside me, completely passed out and unaware of me standing gawking at him. I would love to see the horror on his face when he wakes up, but he just might get in line behind my father and kill me, too. Shit, they may even conspire together to make my death exceptionally horrific.

“No,” I lied, the word ash in my mouth. “Of course not. I just passed out in an empty room. Alone.”

“Bullshit,” Ava shot back, but her tone shifted to crisis management. “Shut up and listen. If Dad asks, you stayed with Amber and me. I’m sending Amber to get you. Be outside in five. Don’t be seen.”

The line went dead.

The next five minutes were a blur of frantic, silent motion. I scooped my tiny, ridiculous dress off the floor and wrestled myself into it, my fingers fumbling on the clasp. The fairy wings were shoved deep into the bathroom trash. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror—a stranger with smudged, glitter-streaked makeup and the elaborate eye mask Ava had painted on me, now cracked and flaking. A ghost of a memory surfaced: talking to him at the bar, feeling a dangerous, magnetic pull I’d blamed on the alcohol. Had I approached him? Had he…?

It didn’t matter. The damage was done.

I gave the bed one last look. In the harsh morning light, he seemed younger, almost peaceful. A stark contrast to the ruthless ruler I knew by reputation. A bizarre, inappropriate thought flickered: He’s going to wake up covered in my glitter.

Then I was out the door, heels in hand, only to collide solidly with a wall of muscle.

“Oof!”

I stumbled back, looking up into the amused face of a man I recognized from the previous night’s introductions, Kael, Valen’s Beta. My heart stopped. He seems to have no idea who I am. I'm grateful for the paint on my face because he might have recognized me as my father’s daughter without it, which is the last thing I need.

“My Alpha in there?” he asked, a slow smirk spreading across his face as he took in my disheveled, hurried state.

I dropped my head, nodding mutely, and tried to sidestep him.

“Are you alright, or do you need a ride home?” he asks, making me stop.

“What, do you give all your Alpha’s one-night stands a ride home?” I chuckle at him, and he smiles.

His smirk widened. “Only the pretty ones.”

I didn’t dignify that with a response, just pushed past him and fled down the hall, the sound of his soft chuckle chasing me like a bad omen.

*******************************************

Three Weeks Later

One night.

One stupid, blacked-out, catastrophic night.

That was all it took to throw away everything I have ever known.

I knew something waswrong when I felt a bit under the weather for more than a few days. The fatigue was bone-deep, unshakable by sleep. Werewolves didn’t get sick like this. A cold, heavy dread had been settling in my stomach for days, a counterpoint to the rolling nausea. I kept comforting myself until my father, Alpha Akturus of the Dark Moon Wolf Pack, finally lost patience and dragged me to see Dr. Darnell.

Sitting in the sterile exam room, under the flickering fluorescent light, I felt like a specimen. My father paced, a contained storm of impatience. Mountainview City was our world, a place of four werewolf packs living in a tense, structured harmony. The Shadow Moon Pack was second only to the Nightshades in power, a point of immense pride for my father. And I, his firstborn, his carbon copy with his dark hair and storm-gray eyes, his proudest project—the future Alpha.

At least, I was.

The door opened, and Doc Darnel came back in, his face a pale, grim mask. He didn’t look at me. He looked at my father, and in that glance, my world ended.

“She is pregnant.”

The words were simple. They dropped into the room like stones into a still pond, and the ripples were seismic. My heart didn’t break; it simply plummeted, leaving a sucking void in my chest. No. It was once. I don’t even remember it. This isn’t possible. This was a cruel joke, a mistake.

I looked at my father. The proud, often stern, but always-loving face I knew was transforming. Disbelief first, then a dawning horror that curdled into something darker—a profound, soul-crushing disappointment. It was a physical blow.

“You’re wrong,” my father said, his voice dangerously quiet. “Run it again. She hasn’t found her mate. She can’t be.” The unspoken rule screamed in the silence: She-wolves save themselves for their destined mates. It was sacred, the cornerstone of our society. For an Alpha’s daughter to break it? It wasn’t just a mistake; it was a betrayal of everything.

I shrunk in the plastic chair, seventeen years old and feeling like a condemned criminal. Why the male wolves fooled around, it was shrugged off as “sowing wild oats.” But for a female, especially one in line for power? It was a disgrace.

“Alpha, I’ve tested it twice,” Doc Darnel said gently, but my father was already shaking his head, a refusal to accept the reality reshaping his legacy.

“No. Test it again. My daughter is not a rogue whore.” He spat the label like poison.

Rogue whore. The most vile title for a she-wolf besides traitor. A woman pregnant by a man not her mate. In most packs, they were banished, left to go feral in the wilderness. Here in Mountainview, they were merely cast out of pack protection, forced to survive on the fringes of the city, objects of pity and scorn. I’d looked down on those women from the height of my privilege. Now, I was staring into that abyss.

The doc hurried out. The room was airless. My father paced, a caged alpha wolf, the power in the room thickening until it was hard to breathe. He stopped, pinning me with a look that stripped me bare.

“He has to be wrong. You wouldn’t shame me this way.” It wasn’t a question; it was a plea for the old reality.

When Doc Darnel returned, his pitying glance at me was the final verdict. “The results are the same, Alpha.”

My father’s growl was sub-vocal, a tremor of pure rage. His eyes flickered, the black of his wolf threatening to overtake the gray. I’d never seen him this close to losing control. Not with me.

“How far along?” The question was iced steel.

“An ultrasound next week could confirm—”

“Do it. Now. We take care of this before word gets out. I won’t have a rogue whore for a daughter.” His words were absolute, leaving no room for argument. “You understand, Doc?”

The doc nodded, he was terrified.

It took a moment for his meaning to pierce through my shock. Take care of it. A termination. An abortion. It was an abomination in the eyes of the Moon Goddess, a sin far greater than my initial transgression.

“Wait!” I say, finally finding my voice. My father looks at me and the Doc moves away from him when he feels my father’s aura rush out.

“Wait for what? You aren’t keeping this monstrosity. We can sweep it under the rug, no one has to know, and you can still take the Alpha position; we just need to take care of this poor choice, and then things can go back to normal,” my father says. He makes it sound so simple like this isn’t a sin against the Moon Goddess.

“No. I can’t do that, Father. Please, just let me speak with Mom. We can work this out,” I plead with him.

“No, you will terminate the pregnancy, then we go home. Doc, get whatever it is you need. I am not leaving this office until this is taken care of,” my father says.

I feel tears brimming at his words. Sure, I don’t want to be pregnant, but I am not a murderer; aborting a pregnancy is worse than having a child with someone who is not your mate.

“Alpha, I am afraid if your daughter isn’t willing, I can’t perform such a thing unless there is a medical reason.”

“She is willing, isn’t that right, Everly?” my father says, trying to force me to agree, but I meet his gaze head-on. My mind is made up; I won’t go through with it.

“No!” I tell him, not expecting his following reaction. In all my life, my father has never hit me, never raised a hand to me, and the shock of his action is more painful than the blow itself as his hand connects with the side of my face. I can feel the outline of his fingers etched into my cheek as a burning sensation spreads across it from his palm.

“Then you are no longer my daughter,” he says and walks out of the room.

He turned and walked out of the room, out of my life, leaving me alone with the pack doctor’s pity, the humming of the lights, and the terrifying new life growing inside me—a life that had just cost me everything.

chapter 2

Eight months later

Loved ones come and visit the other mothers on the ward, gushing in excitement over their new bundles of joy, eagerly discussing their new additions to the family. The woman across

from me is being doted on by her mate. The support he is showing her, the comfort, makes my heart twist painfully, knowing no one is excited to meet my son. No one is coming to check on me or offer support. No one cares for the boy suckling at my breast. Nobody is coming. It is just him and me against the world.

But that is ok. I will make it work.

The labor was excruciating. It was thirty-four hours and forty-five minutes of pure agony and no comfort, not even from the midwives. They were nothing but rude and mean, telling me to quit crying as I begged them to make the pain stop. I had never felt so vulnerable or alone as when I was in labor.

It was hard enough to grow up with the expectations of being the Alpha’s daughter, but then I got pregnant, shunned, and stripped of my title. All for one night. That one night turned my life upside down. How could he throw away his flesh and blood, his own daughter, over her falling pregnant?

How could anything so tiny and sweet be called a mistake?

Hearing the nurse come in, I look up. She grabs my chart from the end of the bed, looking it over before eyeing me. Glasses teeter on the end of her upturned nose. No one tries to hide their disgust; everyone looks down on me because I had a child with someone who isn’t my mate. That much is evident, that I have no mate because where is he? Not here beside me like the rest of those new mothers on the ward—my mate isn’t here gushing over this newborn baby in my arms.

“You really have no idea who the father is?” she asks, clicking her tongue. I know exactly who the father is, but the last thing I need is for him to hunt me down. I already had that run-in. A run-in I would much rather forget when I told him I was carrying his child.

He didn’t even remember me.

Doesn’t help that he's a rival pack Alpha. It's just easier pretending I don’t know. The shame I have brought my family for being pregnant is bad enough; my father would have killed me for the disrespect of foolishly getting into bed with the Blood Alpha.

I watch the nurse flick her red curly hair over her shoulder. “He is cute; shame his mother is a whore,” she sneers, and I see the points of her canines pressing beneath her gums as they protrude past her lips.

“Can I get some Tylenol?” I ask, ignoring her comment. I'm feeling a headache coming on. Besides, I've received multiple comments along the same lines since being here—I don’t feel the need

to defend myself; there is no point. Nothing I say will make them look at me any differently. “Sorry, can’t. It is not on your charts,” she says.

“It’s Tylenol. It’s not like I am asking for morphine,” I tell her.

“Doesn’t matter. It isn’t on your charts, so you will have to go without,” she says, dropping the chart on the table beside me. Most women heal directly after giving birth, but I haven’t shifted yet, so I have no such healing ability.

“Can I get something to eat at least?” I ask her. I am starving, and breastfeeding is making me ravenous.

“You came into the maternity ward after the dinner rounds, and breakfast is at 7 a.m.,” she tells me. I look at the clock and see it is only just after 8 p.m. I nod, knowing this nurse will not help in any way. Crap, every nurse here is horrible because of my situation. Sometimes, I wish I could leave this city, pretend to be human, and just go about my life with my son.

The nurse leaves, stopping at the blue curtain that divides the beds. “Did you even think of the repercussions for the father by having a child with someone who isn’t your mate? Did you think of the poor woman who finds her mate in him and one day learns he fathered an illegitimate child to some random she-wolf?”

Little did she know that I thought of that every day since learning I was pregnant, but it was his choice, too. I fight back the tears from her words as I stare down at my amber-eyed boy; those eyes are definitely from his father, from what I can remember at least. Mine are light bluish-gray.

I've just put my son down after he fell asleep in my arms when I see a nurse walk past. She stops and comes over to me when I wave to her. Her uniform is different; she must be the head midwife or someone higher up on the staff list. Long, pencil-straight hair hangs to her shoulders, slightly obscuring her name tag. I try to read the small writing under her name—Rita—but I can't quite make it out. She must be in her mid-twenties because she seems closer to my age. Well, not really. I am barely eighteen, but still, she looks nicer than the previous nurses. She picks up my chart, flicking through it.

“Is there somewhere I can get some water? Or maybe a cup of tea?” I ask, and she glares at me.

My stomach drops. Maybe she isn’t so lovely after all.

She presses the buzzer behind my head, calling another nurse, yet she still hasn’t answered me. My son starts to stir, and I reach over and grab him out of his crib as another nurse comes in, my stomach cramping from the sudden movement.

“Why is she in here?” the head nurse asks, making me look at her.

I just had a baby. Why else? I think to myself.

The new nurse looks over at me. Her hands tremble slightly—this head midwife obviously instills fear in her colleagues.

“Get her to the unmated section. We don’t need her disturbing the mothers in this ward,” the woman says before turning her nose up at me and walking out. Turns out, Rita is a bitch, like the rest of them. I stare, disgusted by this hospital’s bedside manner. The girl in the curtained-off room beside me speaks.

“I knew something was up with her, Hun; her mate never visited her. No one has. Now I know why,” she says to her mate.

She's right. We are allowed one person with us constantly while in here. The girl next to me, her mate hasn’t left her side since I got here. The person across from me had multiple people come in during the night, and her mate also hasn’t left.

I try to ignore their mates gushing over them and tending to their every need while I sit here, getting nothing but sneers and judgment.

The bed moves as the nurse begins rolling me out of the room. Because I am sitting upright, I have to grab the bar that runs along the side to stop from falling back. She wheels me through the maternity ward before going down a corridor; I appear to be leaving the maternity unit altogether. The nurse finally stops at a curtained-off area and places the bed against the wall. The woman then turns on her heel and leaves.

“Wait, can I get some water?”

But she has already gone and didn’t even acknowledge my question.

“I wouldn’t bother. They won’t help us,” comes a voice before someone jerks the partitioning curtain away to reveal two other girls. One looks to be in her mid-twenties with long, curly dark hair and sparkling green eyes. The other girl is around sixteen, with her dark blonde hair tied into a messy bun on top of her head.

“My name is Macey,” the oldest of them says. “Hi. Everly,” I reply.

“Her name is Zoe. Welcome to the shunned mothers club,” Macey chuckles before looking down at her baby. She sighs heavily.

“Don’t expect them to help; they won’t. Seriously, you’re best off getting out as soon as you can,” Macey tells me.

“But they are supposed to,” I tell her, feeling disheartened.

“Yeah, I have been here two days; baby has a few problems. Half the time, they don’t answer when I buzz, and forget about them feeding you. I haven’t received anything since being here,” Macey explains before reaching to the foot of her bed and pulling a bag toward her. She rummages through it before pulling out a granola bar.

“Here. You must be starving. I was, and I came prepared expecting this,” Macey explains. “You had a baby before?” I ask, unable to imagine going through this again.

She shakes her head. “No, this is my first. My mom was a single mother, too. We are rogues like you,” she says.

I open the granola bar, my stomach growling at the sight of food. “Boy or girl?” I ask the younger girl, who seems rather shy. “Girl. Yours?”

“Boy,” I tell her.

“Thanks,” I tell Macey before biting into the granola bar.

“Plenty in there, just help yourself. I brought extras in case there were other girls. Which pack are you from? Your aura feels quite strong for a rogue?” she says, staring at me.

“Alpha blood,” I tell her. Her eyebrows raise in shock.

“In that case, you don’t have to tell me. I understand why you would want to keep that to yourself.

Zoe was born rogue—so was I,” she says, and I glance at Zoe, who nods.

“If you don’t mind me asking, where are you girls living? Are there any refuges or anything for women?”

“I have a place at a refuge. But I know it’s full to capacity,” Zoe says, a look of sorrow etching her face as if she wishes she could help more.

“Me? I live with my mom and my brother,” Macey tells me. “Where are you staying? No family would help?” Zoe asks.

I shake my head. “No. We will be alright. I will come up with something,” I tell them, hoping that will be true, though I have been living in my busted station wagon, which cost me $500 for the last eight months.

It saddens me that we are pushed aside, but the next day, both girls help me, for which I am grateful. Macey continues to share her food, and she was right—not once did anyone come to check on us, no food was brought to us, nothing. Shunned for having a baby, and we suddenly don’t matter anymore.

chapter 3

Two weeks later

Tap, Tap, Tap.

I look up and see a man tapping on my car window, his flashlight shining in before he

moves it around, looking in the back. I put my hand up when the light flashes across my face, blinding me. He quickly moves it to the side.

“Ma’am, you can’t stay here,” the middle-aged man tells me; he must be city security, judging by his uniform. My son—who I decided to name Valarian—stirs, the bright light waking him, and he lets out an irritated cry. The man moves his flashlight away entirely, shining it at the ground, and Valarian stops.

“Look, I've noticed your car here for nearly two weeks; this is a train station.” He sighs as I pick up my son out of his fruit box bed and roll down the window a bit so he doesn’t keep yelling, thinking I can’t hear him.

“You really have no place to go? No family?” he asks.

“No, the council kicked me out of the park,” I say matter-of-factly.

He sighs heavily and runs a hand down his face before glancing around the parking lot. “What about the baby’s father?”

I shake my head, knowing that isn’t an option. He didn’t even believe me about the pregnancy— refused to see me, even when I begged him to let me show him the ultrasound pictures. Every time I tried to call after that, he hung up the moment he heard my voice. After a while, I gave up.

“You know there are people out there that would take him—then you could probably go home.”

“I am not abandoning my baby like my parents did me,” I tell him, outraged he would even suggest

it.

“This is no life for a child. You’re young. If you give him up, you could have a normal life.

Something to think about: I will give you another week to find somewhere else. After that, you need to move on,” he says, and I nod before winding the window up.

I watch him leave before settling my son and putting him back to bed in the fruit box beside me—I have always been paranoid about accidentally rolling on him while asleep. Tugging the blanket up over both of us, I try to get comfortable. Yet, all I can think is. This is not how I intended to bring my son into this world. I thought it would be different and that I would have figured out something by now. A single tear runs down my cheek as I think of his words. “This is no life for a child.” Am I being selfish?

However, the thought of giving him up breaks my heart. He is mine. I loved him and would give my life for my little man. Isn’t that enough? I can’t deny the bond between us.

aking up the following day, I groan; it is pouring with rain. It's still early. I rummage through the back for my umbrella before slipping my shoes on. Making sure Valarian is bundled nice and warm, I grab my empty bucket in one hand and pop the umbrella up as I open the

hatchback.

Sliding the bucket to the crook of my elbow, I raise the umbrella with the same hand. I then pick up my son in my free arm and make a run for it to the train station bathrooms, paying extra care not to slip on the wet ground. That would be disastrous. Once I get into the large, handicapped stall, I shove the bucket in the sink, filling it with warm water before shimming my pants down to pee. One thing I hate about being homeless is holding my son while going to the bathroom. I can’t place him down anywhere, making it hard to use the toilet while making sure not to drop him. When I finish, I slide my pants up with one hand, which is difficult while holding my son, then awkwardly wash my hand before turning the faucet off.

Now the tricky part—holding an umbrella, a newborn, and a now-full bucket of water. Somehow, I manage it and make it back to the car before placing the bucket down and quickly opening the hatchback to my wagon. I crawl in and set my son in his bed before hauling my tiny bucket in. Lathering my washcloth with soap, I give him a wash down before dressing him in a clean diaper and clothes so he's all nice and fresh for the day.

Using the remaining water, I also give myself a wash, longing for a shower. Gosh, I miss showering, something I definitely took for granted. I use the rest stop ones occasionally, but right now, I have no fuel to get there and can’t risk spending my limited funds.

When mom and dad kicked me out, I had a small amount of savings. I also worked at the Chinese restaurant on the main street while pregnant to keep saving. The savings didn’t last long with buying baby clothes and non-perishable food, though. And now that he's born, I've been spending money on diapers. Not to mention, since my milk dried up from stress and lack of nutrition before I left the hospital, I am forced to stock up on formula and bottled water too. My car looks like a mini supermarket, but I am starting to get low on the formula again. Rummaging through my wallet, I find my last $100. I need to think of something fast. This won’t see us through much longer.

Sighing, I lean back on my door, watching the rain. The restaurant won’t take me back—I tried that—and my parents obviously aren’t an option. His father wouldn’t even let me on pack territory when I requested to see him.

I still remember when I got his number to call him that first time; what a nightmare that was. He laughed and said there was no way he would sleep with a seventeen-year-old. To be fair, I was not supposed to be in that part of the club at the hotel. My sister and I wanted to meet the older Alphas, not the young ones that hadn’t even reached puberty. So with fake IDs, we snuck in while the meeting was going on in the conference hall. Alpha Valen was just as drunk as I was, so it's no wonder he can’t remember me. I barely remember anything. What I do remember is how I felt that night—the pull to him for some reason—and he must have felt it too. I know I didn’t imagine it.

Shaking the vague memory away, I grab a granola bar and start eating. My belly is rumbling. Oh, what I would do for a home-cooked meal. I love mom’s cooking. She's the best cook!

A tear slips down my cheek and I check my phone, yet I know I will find no missed calls. My

father had it disconnected, but I like to look at the photos of when I was still part of the family. I miss my little sister—I wish I could see her, even just once more.

I spend most of the day just trying to figure out what I can do about money. The security guard’s words eat at me. “This is no life for a child.”

I am failing.

I need help and don’t know who to ask. When it starts to get dark, the five o’clock train pulls in. I try to light my candle so I can see in the growing darkness, but my lighter has finally run out of fuel. Popping the trunk to get out, I grab my umbrella and glance around, hoping to find someone smoking

—someone approachable—to ask to borrow one. “Excuse me, do you have a…”

The man in his tailored suit walks past, looking down at me. I try over and over again, ignored by everyone that passes. Feeling disheartened, I'm about to hop back in the car when I see a younger man in a neat suit.

I've seen him a few times. He catches the early train and is always home on the five o’clock train. He's always dressed nicely in suits that compliment his brownish-blond hair and green eyes, and his muscular build puts him a good foot taller than me.

The man stares at me warily as I approach, and I stop when I feel his aura—he has Beta blood. He looks familiar for some reason and I finally place him; he is one of the Betas from the Alpha meet. He's Beta to Alpha Valen. I pretend I don’t recognize him because he definitely doesn’t remember me, and I know he can’t feel my aura. I've been rogue for so long now, my aura is almost nonexistent. It doesn’t help that I still haven’t shifted. I want to, need to, but what do I do with my son?

“Can I borrow a lighter if you have one?” I blurt out quickly before he waves me away; everyone usually assumes I'm asking for money. He stops, staring at me for a second.

“Fine,” he says, rustling inside his pocket before handing me a green lighter. I run back to the car and light the candle that sits on a plate in my vehicle. Only, when I turn around, I find him behind me, having followed me the few yards back to my car.

I jump, not expecting him to be so close. “Thank you,” I tell him, passing it back. He nods, then begins to leave, walking around the side of my car just as my son cries out.

chapter 4

"Shh, shh, I’m coming,” I whisper, pulling the hatchback down until something stops it. I turn to see what it caught on, only for it to be pulled open by the Beta.

“Is that a baby you have in there?” he asks, and my heart thunders in my chest nervously. Will he call child services on me?

My son cries louder, and I reach for him. The man’s eyes dart to him before he sniffs the air. I stare back at him, confused, and tug my son to my chest as if he’s threatening to take him away from me.

“It’s only temporary; please don’t call child services,” I tell him, and he cocks his head to the side. His gaze appears to be more thoughtful than scrutinizing.

“Does your car run?” he asks, looking at it before he kicks a tire.

“I have no fuel. I will leave tomorrow, I promise,” I tell him, panicking. Maybe he's a council worker? I doubt it because of his expensive suit.

He looks at me, his nose scrunching slightly. “You smell familiar,” he mutters.

I swallow, wondering if he remembers me, but he doesn’t appear to, and I also don’t want him questioning which pack I was from. My father and his Alpha are not on good terms. Yet, maybe if he could get me in to see Alpha Valen, he might help with his son. However, that thought also frightens me—having to face the man who ignored me and refused to even do a DNA test. He declined to come check—stating my claims were lies—but if he just met him, he would see. We can always sense our kin. I stare at the Beta, wondering if he'll leave, but he pushes the hatchback open further before reaching in. I scoot further back, looking for a weapon in case I need it.

“Calm down. I can’t leave you here knowing you are sleeping in your car with a baby,” he says, grabbing the car seat.

“I will leave; just don’t take my son,” I tell him. He looks at me like I am mad. “I’m not.” And his eyes mean it. “I want to help.” He’s being sincere.

“You want to help?” I repeat, slightly disbelieving. I must have heard that wrong.

“Come on, you can stay at the packhouse until I speak to my Alpha,” he says, waving me forward. “Grab a change of clothes. We can come back to your car tomorrow,” he says.

Terrified, I don’t move. It's been so long since anyone has helped me. He sighs before grabbing a bag and stuffing a can of formula, the diaper bag, and some of my clothes inside the bigger bag.

“Come on, wouldn’t you rather have a warm house than a cold car?” he asks. I look down at my son, wondering if I should trust him. He grabs the car seat. I climb out, and he hands me my umbrella before shutting my trunk.

“This way,” he says, walking to his car. I follow him to his electric blue sports-looking car. I

always wondered why he doesn’t drive to work. And why would he leave such an expensive car at a train station?

He puts the seat in before scratching his head. “You know how to clip it in?” he asks, and I nod. “Okay, you put it in, and I will hold your…” His eyes dart to my son.

“Son,” I tell him, and he nods, holding out his arms for him. He takes him from me, and I lean in, making sure to keep an eye on him while I clip the seat in before turning around. Retrieving the baby, I clip him in his chair before climbing in beside him. The Beta then passes me the bag before shutting my door.

He turns the heater on when he hops in before glancing at me in the rearview mirror.

“Your son has odd-colored eyes—reminds me of my Alpha’s. He is the only person I know with amber eyes besides his father,” he says.

I look at the man, and he looks away, looking back at the road. He definitely has his father’s eyes, but I keep my mouth shut. Though maybe this would be my chance, he would be able to tell if he saw his own son. We can sense our own family, plus their resemblance is unmistakable.

“Who is your Alpha?” I ask, pretending I don’t know.

“Valen, the Blood Alpha,” he says, his eyes darting to mine in the mirror again, gauging my reaction to his words. I feel excitement bubble in me, knowing I am correct in who he is.

“He will be fine with you bringing a rogue into the territory?” I ask him.

“He won’t be there, and I will speak with him tomorrow. Are you hungry?” he asks, and my belly rumbles loudly at the mention of food. He chuckles at the noise.

“I will take that as a yes,” he says, and my face heats. I give my son his binky, his amber eyes peering at me in the darkness of the car.

“What’s your name?” “Everly,” I answer him.

“Odd name. What pack were you from, or were you born rogue?”

“No, I was in a pack,” I answer. I refuse to tell him which one; it's no secret my family’s pack and the Blood-Alpha are constantly at war.

“Your name? I can tell you have Beta blood,” I tell him.

“Marcus, and yes, I am Valen's Beta,” he says before pulling into a drive-thru. I grab my wallet. “I don’t want your money,” he says before ordering for himself. "What do you want?"

I don’t say anything, feeling awkward, so he orders two of the same thing.

“Is he asleep?” he asks, and I look at my son. I nod as he pulls up to the next window. “Climb in the front,” he says, which makes me look at my son again, worried.

“I don’t bite, climb over,” he says while patting the passenger seat. I unclip my seatbelt before climbing over into the front. Placing the seatbelt on quickly, I notice that he doesn’t have a mark on his neck; he hasn’t found his mate yet. A bite on the neck always means that anyone, man or woman, has been “marked” by their mate.

He opens some cupholders and places the drinks in them before passing me a paper bag.

“You can eat in the car,” he says. I thank him and I open his burger box for him, letting him take it

out.

Marcus pulls over on the side of the road before flicking the interior light on so we can see before

turning in his seat to face me. “Eat. I won’t hurt you.”

I open the burger box, the smell making my stomach melt. My hands are shaking as I retrieve the burger.

“Are you cold?” he asks, turning the heat up.

I nod my head. It's a lie. I was fine in the car; it's the fact I haven’t eaten a hot meal in ages or even just actual food that isn’t canned spaghetti or granola bars. I bite into the burger and a sob nearly escapes my lips; I am quick to suppress it so he doesn't hear. I chew slowly, savoring the taste and the warmth. Looking up, I see that he is watching me while eating his burger.

I blush, feeling embarrassed that he is staring. He must think I am pathetic. I feel pathetic accepting a stranger's help, and almost crying over a damn burger.

“Thank you,” I tell him while taking a sip of the cold Coke. It fizzes in my throat and on my tongue but tastes so good.

“Where is your family?” he asks curiously.

“He is my only family,” I tell him, looking at my son. “They tossed you, didn’t they, for being unmated?”

I swallow, looking down.

“My mother was a single mother, not a rogue, though. My dad died and she raised me alone. She struggled, but she had the pack. Must be hard having no one to help at all,” he says. I don’t say anything. What can I say? I am the disgraced daughter of an Alpha?

We eat in silence, and for the first time in ages, I feel full, yet still, he hands me his fries, telling me to eat them before starting the car again. After twenty minutes of driving, I realize we're getting close to my old pack when he turns onto a road going in the opposite direction.

It takes another twenty minutes of driving through his territory before he pulls up at a large, three- story house. I can hardly see through the darkness of the night, but I can tell it's modern-looking.

“Are you okay? Stepping across didn’t make you feel sick?”

I shake my head. It's odd. Usually, rogues feel sick crossing a border, but I don’t. “Huh. Odd,” he mutters.

“Are you sure it's okay for me to stay here?” I ask a little nervous about being in pack territory when I am a rogue.

“Yeah, no one is here, and you can stay in my room tonight; I have pack patrol, so I won't be home.”

I nod. “The Alpha won’t mind?” I ask.

“Na, he won’t even know until I see him tomorrow. He's in the city partying tonight; you will have the place to yourself,” he says, opening his door. I climb out before walking around the car and grabbing my son. Marcus places my bag over his shoulder and puts his hand on my lower back, showing me to the front door. I watch as he unlocks the door before motioning for me to enter.

chapter 5

Stepping inside, Marcus flicks on the hallway light, and I can finally see better. The entire place is spotless. White marble floors and a massive staircase lead up to the next level. I can’t see in the rooms off the side of the foyer; he didn't turn those lights on, but if the foyer is anything to go

by, the rest of the house must be breathtaking. It is way over the top; nothing I wouldn’t expect of the Blood Alpha. They are the wealthiest pack and have half the city under their claim.

“This way,” he says, motioning for me to follow. I trail after him up two flights of stairs before he stops at a black door. He pushes it open to reveal a king-size mahogany bed with a canopy. Matching furniture and a large black rug sit on the floor. Built into the wall is a flat-screen TV, and he turns it on before turning the volume down a bit. To one side, I can also see a door leading to a balcony.

“Obviously, I don't have a crib, but the bed is comfy, and the bathroom is through those doors. It's shared with Alpha Valen's room next door, but I'm sure he won't be by tonight. He'll probably stay at his apartment in the city. Towels are in there, and I will be back to check on you at 6 a.m. I'll take you to see the Alpha then,” he says before heading into the walk-in closet and grabbing some clothes for himself.

“The Kitchen is downstairs if you're hungry, and I'll see you later,” he tells me before walking out the door. I look around for a moment, then flick the space heater on to warm the room.

“This is nice, Bubba. And tomorrow, you can meet your father,” I whisper to him. I can’t help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation. There’s no way the Alpha can deny his son once he meets him. He'll know with just one look at him that he is his. He'll be able to sense that. Finally, things were looking up. I’d have help, well, maybe not me, but I know he’ll provide for his son.

Walking into the bathroom, I gasp. It's white marble and white tiles with a gold finish. One wall is all mirrors above the basin, and the shower could easily fit three people. But the most exciting part is that the sink is the perfect size to bathe Valarian. He hasn’t taken a proper bath since the hospital. I just know he’ll love it. I instantly start prepping the sink with warm water, using my elbow to test it before stripping his clothes off and settling him in the water while ensuring I hold his head above the water. He moves his arms and legs, swishing the water and murmuring happily while eating his hands. I chuckle watching him splash.

Once the water gets cool, I get him out. I drain the water and wrap him in a towel before patting him dry and laying him on the bed while I dress him. After his bottle, he falls asleep quickly, almost like he knows he’s safe here. I prop pillows around him to ensure he doesn't fall off the bed before walking back to the bathroom, leaving the door open so that I can hear him. After quickly stripping my clothes off, I turn the shower on and step under the warm spray. Marcus didn't mention using the bath products, but I assume it is okay, and use the shower gel and shampoo to give myself the deepest wash

I’ve had in what feels like a year.

Halfway through wrapping the fluffy towel around myself, I suddenly hear voices, drunken stumbling, a woman giggling, and I freeze. Someone is here. I snatch my clothes off the sink basin and am about to run into Marcus's room when the bathroom door opens and a beautiful red-haired woman walks in wearing a skimpy dress. She stops when she notices me. Her extremely tight dress leaves little to the imagination, and she is clearly intoxicated, as a cloud of alcohol wafts in after her.

She looks me up and down before growling at me, her top lip pulling back over her teeth. “What are you doing in here, rogue?” she barks.

“I… Beta Marcus… He said.” My heart thumps wildly in my chest. Stuttering, I attempt to explain when the door is shoved open, and a man storms in. No, not a man, the blood Alpha. He also reeks heavily of whiskey, the smell so strong it burns my nose, yet I can’t tear my eyes from his amber ones. He is absolutely gorgeous, even while heavily intoxicated and barely able to stand upright. He's tall, too, and way bulkier than I remember, with dark hair and a five o'clock shadow. But his eyes, those eyes I can’t look away from. They glow like the embodiment of autumn.

It feels like someone fried my brain to a crisp, and all I can do is stare, my brain screaming at me, my senses overloaded with his essence.

Mate!

The blood Alpha. He's. My. Mate.

I know it, feel it, with every fiber of my being, even without having shifted yet. I am of age now, and I feel my heart flutter excitedly. I’ve found my mate! Taking a step toward him, I reach out to him, but his lips pull back over his teeth to reveal sharp canines. His face, his gorgeous face, is twisted in anger. I gasp, realizing he's too intoxicated to recognize me. Instead, he rushes toward me. His hands grab my throat, and he pushes me against the cold, tiled wall.

“What the fuck is a rogue doing in my house!” he screams before sniffing me. I can’t talk; his grip is tight, restricting my airway. He sniffs me again before shaking his head. Then he shoves me back before commanding me.

“Get out of my house now before I have you killed!” he roars, and my stomach sinks somewhere deep inside me. He can't recognize me. I could just as easily be some random rogue whore off the street to him with how drunk he is. However, he keeps sniffing the air, his body telling him something is amiss. It’s just that his brain cannot register me at all. My heart sinks.

The woman behind him is clearly enjoying this confrontation; probably hoping he'll kill me; a rogue on pack land. I never should have come here. I never should have gotten my hopes up. Not even my own mate will help me. This was my only chance at showing him that he's a father, and now it just went out the window.

“Wait, but, you're my–” I plead desperately.

“Get out!” he screams, and I flinch, his Command rolling over me. I snatch my clothes from where I dropped them, rushing into Marcus's room and pulling them on. As much as I desperately wish I could continue arguing, his Command leaves me powerless. And the more I fight it, the more it hurts. Alpha wolves, once they reach maturity, can use a certain voice, a Command, that the recipient must obey, by fighting it, the pain grows until they submit to it.

“Come on, baby,” the woman purrs, clutching him. Tears brim in my eyes while I snatch my things up, unable to do anything against his Command, unable to explain myself. Wrapping my son in his blanket and tucking him against me, I grab my bag before rushing down the steps.

Pain suddenly tears through me, taking my breath away. Clutching the banister, my stomach

cramps, making me cry out and my legs buckle. I grit my teeth, agony tearing my heart apart. They’re obviously fucking. I’ve heard that women know when their mates are unfaithful—can feel it—but I got to meet him with another woman.

I didn't think it would hurt like this; I never envisioned this pain when teachers explained. He hasn't even marked me.

Running down the steps, I rush out the door. It's pouring with rain as a storm rolls across the night sky. And I am miles from my car, yet his Command told me to leave and gives me no choice. Looking around helplessly, I start running, pulling my son under my shirt to shield him from the cold. My legs are moving me with nowhere to go as I desperately try to figure out where to find shelter.

I don't know how long I run for, but I suddenly find myself on the city's main street—the line separating Nightshade Pack from Shadowmoon Pack, my father's pack, my old territory. My old house is only a ten-minute run from here.

Maybe he'll take pity on me; perhaps he might change his mind once he meets his grandson. I can only hope, at least for my son’s sake. I swallow, knowing I have no choice, or I'll be in the rain all night with a baby.

Deciding to take my chances, I start running home. I run the entire way before stopping in front of my old home. The lights are all off.

My heart twists as I look up the driveway of the single-story, lavish house. Growing up, I played with the pack kids in this street and rode my bike along the footpath with my sister. My father used to toss the football with us on this very lawn after work when we were little or help us climb the massive tree that sits on the side of the driveway. This was home.

Standing here, I suddenly miss my old life, miss my family; I just hope they miss me too.